LITMIR.BIZ

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the idea of all this royalty nonsense.”

      Royalty nonsense. Wow. Serafia’s libido was doused with cold water at his thoughtless words. That wasn’t exactly what the people of Alma wanted to hear from their new king. After the collapse of the dictatorship, restoring the monarchy seemed like the best way to stabilize the country. The wealthy Alma elite would get a little more than they bargained for with Gabriel Montoro wearing the crown. He didn’t really seem to care about Alma or the monarchy. He hadn’t grown up there, but neither had she. Her parents had raised her to value her heritage and her homeland, regardless.

      Perhaps it was just his youth. Serafia knew how hard it was to have the spotlight on you at such a young age. She’d been discovered by a modeling agency when she was only sixteen. Whisked away from her family, she was making six figures a year when most teenagers were just getting their driver’s licenses. By the time she was old enough to drink, she was a household name. The pressure was suffocating, pushing her to her personal limits and very nearly destroying her. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be the ruler of a country and have over a million people depending on her.

      “I think you’ll get used to it pretty quickly,” she said, leaning her hip against the stone railing. She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. “All that power will go to your head in no time.”

      Gabriel’s bitter laugh was unexpected. “I doubt that. While I may be king, my family will ensure that I’m not an embarrassment to them.”

      “I thought a king can do what he likes.”

      “If that was true, my father or my brother would still be in line for the crown. In the end, even a king has a mama to answer to.” Gabriel looked at her with a charming smile, running his fingers through his too-long light brown hair.

      It was shaggy and unkempt, a style popular with men his age, but decidedly unkingly. The moonlight highlighted the streaks of blond that he’d probably earned on the beach. She couldn’t tell here in the dark, but from the pictures she’d seen of him in the papers and online, he had the tanned skin to match. Even in his immaculate and well-tailored suit, he looked more like a famous soccer player than a king.

      “And I know your mama,” she noted. Señora Adela was a beautiful and fierce woman who lived and loved with passion. She’d also been one to give the lecture of a lifetime while she pulled you down the hallway by your ear. “I’d behave if I were you.”

      “I’ll try. So, how have you been?” he asked, shifting the conversation away from his situation. “I haven’t seen you since you became a famous supermodel and forgot about all of us little people.”

      Serafia smiled, looking for the right answer. She knew people didn’t really want to know how she was doing; they were just being polite. “I’ve been well. I started my own consulting business since I left modeling and the work has kept me fairly busy.”

      “What kind of consulting?”

      “Image and etiquette, mostly. I traveled so extensively as a model that I found I could help companies branch out into unfamiliar foreign markets by teaching them the customs and societal norms of the new country. Other times I help wealthy families groom their daughters into elegant ladies.”

      Although families mostly paid her to teach etiquette and poise and give makeovers, she also spent a lot of time trying to teach those same girls that being pretty wasn’t all they had to offer the world. It was an uphill battle and one that had earned her the label “hypocrite” more than a time or two. Sure, it was easy for a supermodel to say that beauty wasn’t everything.

      “Do me a favor and don’t mention your consulting business around my father or Juan Carlos,” Gabriel said.

      Serafia’s dark eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why is that? Do they have daughters in need of a makeover?” Bella certainly didn’t need any help from her. The youngest Montoro was looking lovely tonight in a beaded blue gown with her golden hair in elegantly twisted curls.

      Serafia had heard rumors that the Montoro heirs had been allowed to run wild in America, but from what she had seen, they were no different from the youths of any other royal family. They wanted to have fun, find love and shirk their responsibilities every now and then. Until those desires interfered with the crown, as Rafe’s abdication had, there was no harm done.

      Gabriel shook his head and took a large sip of his champagne. “No daughters. They’ve just got me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d jump at the chance to have you make me over. I don’t really blame them. I’m about to be the most unsuitable king ever to sit upon the throne of Alma. The bad boy...the backup plan...the worst possible choice...”

      Her eyes widened with every unpleasant description. “Is that their opinion or just your own?”

      He shrugged. “I think it’s everyone’s opinion, including mine.”

      “I think you’re exaggerating a little bit. I’m not sure about what your family thinks behind closed doors, but I haven’t heard anything about you being unsuitable. Everyone is surprised about Rafe abdicating, of course, but I just came from Alma and the people are very excited to have you come home and serve as their monarch.”

      She hadn’t originally planned on visiting Alma, but she’d gotten a call from a potential client there. She was already coming to Florida to consult with a company in Orlando, so she made a stop in Alma on the way. She was glad she had. It was inspiring to see an entire country buzzing with hope for the future. She wished she saw some of that same excitement in Gabriel.

      He narrowed his gaze, seemingly searching her expression for the truth in her words, but he didn’t appear to find it. “That won’t last long. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d start begging for the dictatorship to come back within a year of my reign beginning.”

      And Serafia had thought she was the only one around here with miserably low self-esteem. “The people of Alma fought long and hard to be free of the Tantaberras. You would have to be a wicked, bloodthirsty tyrant for them to wish his return. Is that what you have planned? A reign of terror for your people?”

      “No. I guess that changes things,” he said with a bright smile that seemed fake. “I didn’t realize they had such low expectations for their king. As long as I don’t decapitate all my enemies and force my subjects to cower in fear, I’ll be a success! Thanks for letting me know that. I feel a lot better about the whole thing now.”

      Gabriel was leaving for Alma in a week, and that attitude was going to be a problem. Before she could curb her tongue, Serafia leaned in to him and plucked the champagne glass from his hand. “The citizens of Alma have been through a lot over the last seventy years. While the wealthy upper class could afford to flee, most of the people were trapped there to suffer at the hands of Tantaberra and his sons. They’re finally free, some of them having waited their whole lives to wake up in the morning without the oppressive hand of a despot controlling them. These people have chosen to restore your family to the throne to help them rebuild Alma. They can probably do without your sarcasm and self-pity.”

      Gabriel looked at her with surprise lighting his eyes. He might not be comfortable with the authority and responsibility of being king, but he seemed shocked that she would take that tone of voice with him. She didn’t care. She had lived in Spain her whole life. She wasn’t one of his subjects and she wasn’t about to grovel at his feet when he was being like this.

      She waited for him to speak, watching as the surprise faded to heat. At first she thought it was anger building up inside him, but when his gaze flicked over her skin, she could feel her cheeks start to burn with the flush of sexual awareness. She might have been too bold and said too much, but he seemed to like it for some reason.

      At last, he took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”

      That was not what she’d expected to hear at all. She had braced herself for an argument or maybe even a come-on line to change the subject, but she certainly didn’t think he would agree with her. Perhaps he wasn’t doomed to failure

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